


It's All I Wanted

by bluesatinsashes



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Death, Depression, Desire Demons (Dragon Age), Grief/Mourning, M/M, Post-Trespasser, hella angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 15:37:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20491196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesatinsashes/pseuds/bluesatinsashes
Summary: "He was the man who Dorian loved and adored like nothing else in his entire world. DemetriwasDorian’s entire world, it was why it felt so empty without him."Dorian returns to Tevinter after the Inquisitor's death. Nothing will ever be the same again.





	It's All I Wanted

**Author's Note:**

> Smashing Pumpkins - Bleed

It’s raining in Minrathous the day he returns.

Dorian doesn’t find himself to be particularly surprised by this, with all that’s happened in the last few months he would find it difficult to be surprised by anything anymore. At the sight of the droplets raining from the sky and the thick humidity it was causing in the warm Tevinter air, Dorian thought of little as he exited his carriage and allowed a servant to fetch his things from the back of the car. He stood in the downpour, waving off the driver’s offer to take him all the way to his estate so he didn’t have to walk in the rain. Dorian didn’t mind the wet, the rain reminded him of a certain person he craved to see at the moment, desperately so. If the cold water the sky cried from above was the only comfort for his broken heart, then so be it.

_ Dorian watched from the castle doorway as the Inquisitor stood out in the rain, a peaceful smile upon his face as it lifted itself to the sun just barely breaking through the clouds. It wasn’t quite a downpour or one of the large and booming thunderstorms that Dorian had come to learn his Inquisitor loved so much. Both rarely happened high up in the mountains where Skyhold resided, much to the Inquisitor’s chagrin. No, the storm that day was only a moderate rainfall, a mild crash of thunder in the background. But based on the smile and relaxation that the Inquisitor wore, it seemed enough for him. _

_ “And why, pray tell, are you standing out in the rain like a barbarian?” Dorian had asked him, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. Demetrius Trevelyan looked over to the sound of his paramour's voice and his smile widened as he caught sight of Dorian standing there, watching him. Dorian wouldn’t admit to the little flip his stomach did at the sight of that smile. “I believe the last thing we need is for the Inquisitor to catch his death by standing out in the rain and smiling dreamily at the clouds. I have half a mind to alert our Spymaster of this and let her drag you inside by your earlobe. What a picture that would be for the troops.” _

_ Demetri laughed, a bright and melodic sound that Dorian was beginning to hear more frequently. Even at just the sound of it, Dorian found it near impossible to keep his act together and the frown on his face. His beloved’s laughter was such a sweet sound, like the most beautiful piece of music ever composed and created specially only for his listening. _

_ “I like the rain,” was the Inquisitor’s ever-eloquent reply. He held his hand out to Dorian. “Care to join me?” _

_ “As much as I love getting wet with you in other circumstances, amatus, I do believe this situation does not apply,” Dorian quipped back, his frown threatening to crack with a smile as Demetri laughed again. _

_ “Would you come here if I asked ‘please’, Dori?” Demetri tried again, his big blue eyes practically melting Dorian’s resolve along with the pet name. Dorian always rolled his eyes at it, but if the Inquisitor actually knew what the nickname did to Dorian he would say much more often. _

_ “Oh, I don’t know,” Dorian teased. “Maybe if you tried?” _

_ “Please, Dori?” Demetri asked again, holding his open palm to Dorian again. Droplets of rain trickled through his fingers. _

_ Dorian huffed a sigh as he walked out onto the battlements and took the Inquisitor’s hand, cringing instantly at the feeling of the wet water hitting his scalp through his hair. The Inquisitor laughed once more at the face Dorian made and pulled their bodies together. _

_ “I hate this,” Dorian said as Demetri wrapped an arm around him snugly. “The rain is cold, wet and not at all pleasant. Why did I agree to this? Why must you stand out here and make me suffer with you?” _

_ “There were always these big thunderstorms back in Ostwick,” Demetri began. “I always liked them as a child, and they were especially wonderful at night when the thunder would rumble in the distance as I was going to sleep. On the days when the thunder and lightning weren’t too bad, my mother would let me stay outside in the rain. When I was put in the Circle, I wasn’t allowed that luxury.” _

_ Dorian glanced up to meet Demetri’s eyes. “But you are not in the Circle anymore.” _

_ “I am not in the Circle anymore,” the Inquisitor agreed. _

_ Dorian looked ahead across Skyhold’s main courtyard, blurry from the rain. People dashed across the cobblestone to find refuge indoors, many finding their safety through the doorway of the Herald’s Rest that illuminated with hearth fire and candlelight in the distance. A few soldiers continued to make their rounds and train in the downpour, although Dorian couldn’t see how they did it. The rain was immensely uncomfortable. His hair was becoming disheveled and messy from the trickling water and wind, he couldn’t even imagine the future torture of peeling off his cold, wet leathers from his skin, and his eye kohl was probably ruined- _

_ But then Dorian looks up to Demetrius to scold him once more, and at the sight of the tender and happy look his beloved is giving him at that moment, Dorian couldn’t find the ability to be upset with him. _

_ Dorian could never be upset with him. _

“Your trunk, Magister Pavus,” the attendant said to him, an expectant look on his face as he held out the trunk to Dorian. Dorian had brought more things with him to the Winter Palace than just one trunk, of course. He had to look his best for the solemn week he was there. But quickly one week turned into a month and Dorian had forgotten half of his luggage somewhere in the South.

He couldn’t bring himself to care about it, though.

“Ah, thank you,” Dorian finally replied as he took the trunk of his dwindling things from the servant, reaching into his pocket to pull out quite a decent sum of money and handing it to the man.

The attendant looked down at his hand in astonishment. “But Messere, such an amount is hardly necessary for-”

Dorian held up a hand. “It’s fine. You have more use for it than I ever will.”

“Magister, I-I…”

But Dorian was already turned and walking away on the sidewalk to his estate, carrying the light trunk in one hand as he went. When the servant called out a ‘“thank you!” to him, Dorian pretended he was too far to hear it.

\---

When Dorian walked through the doors of his estate, everything was different and yet exactly the same as he had left it. He suddenly found that the air was stifling, the colors were duller, and the townhouse was no longer a home to him. His paid servants he had freed from slavery flocked to him the moment he stepped through the grand doors, the shock and surprise evident on their faces. Dorian had failed to send a message to his staff alerting them of his late arrival. He had forgotten to alert many people of his late arrival.

The servants were already fussing over him in his wet clothes, offering to take his trunk to his quarters and draw a bath for him while they dried his attire and made dinner. Dorian waved another hand, murmuring he only desired for some rest and would be pleased if no one disturbed him for the rest of the day. His staff said nothing in bewilderment and only nodded distractedly at the prompt change of his behavior. He slid his boots off at the door and carried the trunk up the stairs to his quarters, watching only the ground as he walked. The decor he decorated his estate with was suddenly too dour and he wished to not see it just yet. 

Closing the bedroom door behind him, Dorian walked straight to his bed. It was an absurdly large bed that he thought was an absolute marvel when he had first laid eyes on it. Now the only thing he could think of was all the empty space that would lay at his back as he slept, each and every night from now on.

_ Each and every night from now on I will lay alone. _

He cut off the thought just as it surfaced, pushing down the tightness in his throat and the moisture that prickled at his eyes. It was not the time to get emotional just yet. The night had only just begun.

Dorian began to peel away his wet clothes and toss them in a corner. He had worn the same outfit nearly the whole journey to Tevinter from Skyhold, and the smell was quite evident of the feat. He would have the clothes burned later.

He laid the trunk down on his bed and clicked open the lock before examining the items within. Moving the urn and box of sending crystals out of the way, Dorian lifted out one of the Inquisitor’s shirts and a bottle of wine from inside. The pair had quickly become his favorite combination in the past few weeks, they both brought his misery to the surface and then dulled it down into nothing. He was beginning to love the feeling.

Laying the Orlesian wine he had smuggled from Skyhold’s cellar on the nightstand, Dorian slid the Inquisitor’s shirt onto his body and breathed in the lingering scent. Demetri’s clothes were always so soft and just a little too big for Dorian’s frame, especially now with the amount of food he’s been eating lately, or for better words, the lack of. His stomach grumbled and tightened painfully at the thought, but even the concept of eating at the moment made him sicker than he already felt.

Dorian buttoned up the rest of the tunic with shaking hands and then wrapped his arms around himself, digging his own fingers into the silky material of the shirt. He brought the collar up to his nose to breathe in the scent once more, the clean honeycomb and cashmere musk hitting his senses instantly. _ Demetrius. _

_ The Inquisitor watched Dorian from his bed in silence, a smirk on his lips as Dorian went around the room picking up their clothes strewn here and there on the floor. All while wearing nothing but one of Demetri’s own shirts. _

_ The Inquisitor laid back with his hands folded neatly behind his head. “Now this is a sight I can get used to.” _

_ Dorian scoffed and continued to pick up items of clothing. “If you keep leaving all your lovely shirts lying about the place you better get used to only wearing wrinkled ones.” _

_ Demetri only chuckled, his half-lidded eyes still following Dorian around as he began to fold the clothes for him. Dorian was quite surprised when he found out that the Inquisitor could be an utter slob. The man just let all of the nice clothes the Inquisition paid for him just haphazardly lie all over the place. It was infuriating! Dorian couldn’t understand how the man owned a single clean shirt in these conditions. _

_ The Inquisitor flopped down onto his stomach and held an arm out to Dorian. He had just begun to lay the folded shirts on the couch to make the servants’ job easier. “C’mere,” his amatus beckoned. _

_ Dorian put on a show of sighing in exasperation even as he walked over to Demetri. Both of them knew he could never pass up such an offer. _

_ Demetri wrapped both of his arms around Dorian’s waist and pulled them closer together. He pressed his face into Dorian’s abdomen and breathed in, smelling his own scent lingering on the shirt even as Dorian wore it. “It wouldn’t bother me if you wore my shirts more often, and I wouldn’t object if you folded my clothes more either.” _

_ Dorian laughed and looked down at Demetri, allowing himself to smile in a disgustingly fond way as he began to run his fingers through his amatus’s red locks. _

_ The Inquisitor hummed against him. Dorian decided this was all he ever wanted. _

The bottle of wine was downed as fast as he could take it. He didn’t even bother to use magic to chill it. He wasn’t drinking to enjoy it anymore.

Dorian placed the empty bottle back onto the nightstand and looked at his massive bed with disdain. He removed the abundant amount of pillows from the right side of the bed, where he always slept when he was with Demetrius. He placed the extra pillows on the left side, forming the shape of a body. Dorian’s face burned with embarrassment as he did so, but he couldn’t stand the idea of sleeping in the middle of nothingness. It was easier to pretend the man was still with him other than the alternative.

After pulling back the covers that once felt like the finest material money could buy, Dorian finally laid down, pressing his back against the pillows. He inhaled and exhaled to the Inquisitor’s scent lingering on his shirt, and finally slept.

\---

The Fade shifted around him in an almost empty and amorphous way. Dorian sighed to himself as he stood in the vast nothingness, he didn’t want to be here. All he wanted to do was sleep and dream of nothing, even in this state he couldn’t find the energy to wander the Fade as he usually did when he entered it. Suddenly a bedroom materialized around him, completed with a large Orlesian bed and wooden floors made from mahogany. The thing was a beauty, Dorian admitted, but he had no interest in it. This was the work of a Desire demon most likely, and Dorian had little he desired for. He ran a hand along one of the bedposts idly, impatiently waiting for what was surely to come.

“Dorian.”

_ No. Anything but that. _

Dorian stood stiff, gripping the bedpost with his hand until his knuckles turned white. He choked down the whimper that rose within him at that voice, that beautiful voice he would have killed to hear again.

“Aren’t you going to turn around, Dori?” the voice asked in that familiar chuckle. “I haven’t seen you in nearly a month now. Turn around for me, I want to see you.”

Dorian shook his head vehemently, biting down on his lip with almost enough force to split it. Temptation had always been his biggest vice. He knew if he turned around and saw who was really there all the fight would surely leave him. “I don’t want to see you. Leave me, demon.”

“Demon? What are you talking about, Dori?” the man asked with more spilling laughter. “Come on, turn around. It’s been a month since we’ve been together. I miss you.”

Gritting his teeth and releasing his vice grip on the post, Dorian turned and felt all of his insides drop to the floor in both excitement and dread at what he saw in front of him.

The Inquisitor was as beautiful as he was the day he first stepped foot through Redcliffe’s chantry. He was tall, his shoulders still broad in that way Dorian always found attractive. His red hair was the most vibrant color Dorian had laid eyes on in a month. Dorian knew if he stepped closer he would see each and every freckle that dotted Demetri’s pale skin like stars across the empty night sky. He would see the light blue eyes watching in that quiet, fond way Demetri always did. Dorian would see the long scar that ran along the right side of his face that he used to trail his finger across when they laid together. But the Inquisitor’s hand no longer glowed with the Anchor’s violent green shimmer. 

Everything about him was utterly perfect.

Demetri chuckled again as his eyes roamed over Dorian. “Took you long enough. You’re still as handsome as always, I see.” Dorian didn’t reply. He could feel his whole body shaking, his bottom lip trembling with the effort of keeping the dam of his emotions from crumbling. Demetri’s crooked smile dropped. “Dorian, what’s wrong? I figured you would be happier to see me again.”

“You’re not Demetrius,” Dorian snapped, his voice cracking from the tightness in his throat. “Demetrius has been dead for a month.”

Demetri shook his head. “Last I checked I’m still here.”

“We burned you. Your ashes are in my trunk.”

The Inquisitor didn’t seem to be affected by this revelation in the slightest. “I’m still here. Just in a different form. I figured I could find you here, I’d thought I lost you for good after what happened. But now we can be together again, just the way you wanted it to be.”

Dorian shook his head again, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “The way I wanted it to be or is it the way I _ desired _ it to be, demon? I know what you are and I’m not interested, you can stop toying with me.”

“Don’t you want me, Dorian?” A flash of hurt sped across Demetri’s face. “Come here. If you’d just touch me it would make you feel better. You haven’t been happy lately, Dorian. It’s making me worried. Just come here.”

They both knew Dorian could never pass up such a request.

With only a moment of hesitation, Dorian surged forward and gripped onto the Inquisitor, his Demetrius, his _ amatus_. He finally allowed the tears and sobs he had been holding back for days to break free, wetting the shirt of the love of his life. Dorian sobbed loudly, the noise unflattering and yet entirely unabashed. This was Demetrius, after all, the man who always showed Dorian complete and utter acceptance for anything he did, for any way he was. The man who loved him so openly without fear of the world’s criticism, the first man who showed Dorian how to do the same. He was the man who Dorian loved and adored like nothing else in his entire world. Demetri _ was _Dorian’s entire world, it was why it felt so empty without him.

_ Dorian could still remember the bruises on his knuckles that lasted for days after he had beaten the Eluvian’s surface, wishing and hoping someone on the other side would hear the racket he was making and allow him to see his amatus just one last time. He only needed one more minute with him, just five more seconds. _

_ “Dorian, stop!” Cassandra reached out and yanked his fists away from the glass. “You’re going to break it if you keep doing that.” _

_ Dorian yanked his fists away from her, wanting to fight and argue and scream until she would let him resume. The fight was draining from him too quickly, however. “I have to get through!” he pleaded to her, like she had the power to do anything about it. “He’s dying, I have to be with him! He’ll be alone when it happens if I can’t unlock this damn mirror. All these spells and I can’t open one Maker-damned mirror!” _

_ He meant to continue his rant but a hitch in his breath forced him to stop. He was trying so hard not to panic he felt like he was going to vomit. He didn’t know what to do. For the first time in his whole life, he didn’t know what to do. The most important person in his entire life was on the brink of death and he didn’t know what to do! _

_ Dorian sunk down to his knees, dizzy with the barrage of emotions at that thought. Somewhere on the other side of the Eluvian Demetri was dying and Dorian would never see him again. He would never hear the laugh he loved so much, he would never again feel his amatus’s arms around him late at night, he would never get to admire the way Demetri’s hair caught flame in the early morning sun as it shone in on his sleeping face, he would never even get to tell him he loved him, even just one last time. He was yanking at his own hair and burning the grass around him, so deeply frustrated but not knowing what to do about it. _

_ A firm hand landing on his shoulder broke his thoughts. “Sparkler, you need to calm down,” Varric said, his voice more soothing than Dorian had ever heard it. “I’m not gonna lie to you - the Peacekeeper didn’t look so good before he went in there, but we don’t really know what’s going on behind this thing. Maybe he found Solas?” The dwarf looked up to Cassandra for help placating the mage. _

_ “Exactly,” the Seeker agreed, looking down at Dorian. Dorian only stared at his reflection in the mirror. “If the Inquisitor has truly found Solas then we should have nothing to worry about. No matter what the Viddasala said, Solas wouldn’t just let Trevelyan die, Dorian. We must be patient.” _

_ Dorian simply nodded along with what they were saying, although he never really absorbed any of it. He could only think of Demetri. Demetri in excruciating pain and alone during his final moments. _

_ And Dorian wasn’t there. _

_ In his despair, the mage leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the Eluvian, forcing himself to take deep and even breaths to gain back the ability to think clearly. Any other time he would rather die than let others witness himself behaving in such a way, his Tevinter mindset and all that. But at the moment he didn’t care, the only thing on his mind was the sickening worry for his amatus’s life. Dorian would think he’d be used to it by now, given how many times Demetri has managed to get himself in countless deadly situations where he would balance his own life on the scale for fate to decide. However, Dorian doubted he could ever just ‘get used to’ the feeling of nearly losing Demetri, no matter how many times it happened. _

_ He always knew Demetrius would break his heart, one way or another. He used to dread the day when Demetri would come into the library and tell Dorian he was tired of him, that he didn’t want him anymore. Dorian wouldn’t be too surprised by it, it would be no different from the other men back home who said the same. But the idea of Demetri saying it, someone he had allowed himself to get close to, the first person in years he had let his guard down for? It was a terrifying thought that he wouldn’t want Dorian. _

_ But now this, sitting here and waiting for the Eluvian to reopen, either to reveal his beautiful amatus still breathing or simply a corpse, Dorian couldn’t imagine any worse fear other than this. _

_ And then suddenly the glass he had laid his forehead upon began to vibrate slightly, a tingling of old magic he felt deep in his bones against him as the Eluvian reactivated. Dorian stood instantly as to not fall forwards and stepped through the mirror without a second thought, Varric and Cassandra at his heels moments later. _

_ He broke through the surface, nearly running head-first into a stone Qunari that towered in front of him. Not giving the statue - or all the others that littered the ancient courtyard - much thought, Dorian set off into a run, his eyes scanning every possible surface for his Demetri. _

_ He found him not even moments later, sprawled on the ground in front of another closed-off Eluvian, the Mark glowing dully on his left hand. _

_ He wasn’t moving. _

_ “Amatus!” Dorian cried out, dropping to his knees beside him, hands hovering above. Demetri was lying on his stomach, face turned away from Dorian. “Demetri?” _

_ With only another moment of hesitation, Dorian reached out and grasped Demetri’s shoulder, turning him around. A deep groan rumbled against Dorian’s fingers, he sighed in relief at the sound. _

_ Demetri turned over to his back limply, propped up by Dorian as he tried to rouse the man further. His face was deadly pale, dark purple bruises underneath the hollow of his barely-focused eyes, his mouth set in a grim line of pain. Dorian laid a hand on his face, lifting it up to meet Demetri’s gaze. _

_ Demetri smiled softly as his eyes focused on Dorian. Dorian’s resolve shattered at the sight of it. _

_ “Hey you,” the grand Herald whispered to him, voice weak and cracking from his earlier screams of pain. “And here I thought I wouldn’t see you again.” _

_ Dorian furiously scrubbed the tears growing in his eyes to see clearer. “Don’t speak like that, amatus. I’m here to save you as always, of course.” _  
_  
Demetri only chuckled and grasped Dorian’s other hand. “I’m afraid this is a feat even...even the great Scion of House Pavus can’t fix.”_

_ “Nonsense, I can do anything, remember?” Dorian said, even as his voice cracked terribly. “Where’s Solas? He was the one who was supposed to do all the hard work.” _

_ The Inquisitor frowned. “Solas...Solas’s gone. Said it...it wouldn’t be much longer now. Said it wouldn’t hurt anymore.” _

_ Dorian gripped his hand tighter. Varric looked away. “Amatus, what are you talking about?” _

_ Demetri lifted his left hand, the Mark still glowing dimly. “He didn’t fix it.” When Dorian still showed no signs of comprehending, Demetri placed his hand on Dorian’s cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “I’m sorry, Dori.” _

_ Pressing the Inquisitor’s hand to his cheek, Dorian shook his head furiously. “You’re not going to die, Demetrius. What would the people say if the great Inquisitor survived the Fade and defeated Corypheus but _ this _ is what killed you, hm? The s-scandal it would cause.” _ _  
_

_ His beloved laughed for him one final time, a scratchy and weak sound that rattled in his chest. Demetri looked up at him with that fond way of his, moving his hand to run his fingers through Dorian’s locks clumsily. “I...I love you. I...I can’t remember a time where...where I didn’t love you.” His hand slid back to cup Dorian’s cheek. “My Dorian. My beautiful Dorian.” _

_ Dorian lasted only a few more moments before he broke, the horrible sounds that had been building up in his throat since he first laid eyes on Demetri’s crumbled form finally crawled out of his throat. The hitching sobs began and they never stopped. _

_ Dorian crushed Demetri to him, shoving his face into the crook of his amatus’s neck and gripping tightly to his back, choking with cries and whimpers. _

_ He leaned back after a moment, pressing his lips to Demetri’s right temple. “You’ll always be mine, amatus. I love you.” He pressed his lips to Demetri’s left temple. “I adore you.” _

_ He sat back, wanting one more glimpse at those fond blue eyes, and found nothing. _

Dorian could only remember scant bits and pieces after that. He couldn’t recall how long he sat there holding onto the Inquisitor’s corpse, or how someone eventually managed to take it away from him. It was probably best he couldn’t remember. He would honestly rather forget the entire event.

And now his Inquisitor was in his arms again, warm, breathing, _ living_. It was the most alive Dorian had felt in the month since the tragedy, he could himself inflating with life. He stepped back and grasped Demetri’s face, staring into the eyes he adored, running his fingers across the skin he used to worship.

“And there’s the smile I missed so much,” Demetri whispered between them, running his thumb along the upturn of Dorian’s lips. “If you stay here, you’d feel just like this, every day.”

Dorian took a step back, reality finally landing back onto his shoulders. This wasn’t Demetrius. This was a Desire demon, wearing his beloved’s face and mimicking his ways from Dorian’s own memories. That’s all Demetri was now. Memories.

“Is something wrong?” the demon asked, and _ Maker _ it was really like the man was actually here with him.

“You’re not him. You’re a demon and none of this is really happening.”

The demon took a step closer, reaching for Dorian’s hand. Dorian wrenched it away from him. “Does it matter if it’s real or not?” it asked. “Imagine if you stayed here forever, we could be together for eternity.”

Dorian didn’t want to admit how truly amazing the idea sounded to him. He could escape his responsibilities, he could escape the pain of living each and every day alone and longing for someone he will never have again. Dorian wanted a life with Demetri, he wanted more than just the scant four years they got. He wanted to be able to wake up next to him every morning and to be the last thing Dorian saw every night, he wanted to call him husband, he wanted to grow old with him and die happy men who lived full lives together. It was all he had ever wanted and now he couldn’t have it. He had to live the rest of his life with the other half of his soul absent. It was excruciating, and at times Dorian wondered if it was worth it.

But staring at Demetri, this beautiful sculpture Desire had recreated, Dorian knew the man would never forgive him for such a thing. This wasn’t really Demetri, this was only memories of him.

And Dorian would just have to make do with his own memories of the man that he cherished so much.

“I don’t wish to see you anymore. Leave me be.”

Right when the creature opened its mouth to retort, something beyond the Fade tugged on Dorian’s mind and he was whisked away.

\---

Dorian blinked awake to the bright morning light that permeated his quarters. All of his curtains were shoved back and the sun’s rays peaked through every damned window. Dorian sat up a bit, searching about the room to yell at whoever had done such a thing after he had asked his staff not to disturb him.

“If you’re about to murder me, I’d highly advise against it.”

Dorian’s head whipped to the voice, watching as Maevaris opened yet another curtain to allow more light to filter into the room. He didn’t know whether to be angry or confused by her presence.

“Mae? What are you doing here?” he asked her, settling on ‘confused’. She turned around and smiled gently at him before walking over and sitting on his bed beside him.

“I should be asking _ you _ that question,” she shot back at him. “I’ve checked here every day for nearly a month now to see if you’ve returned and now you’re here. After what happened...I didn’t know if you were coming back, Dorian. I was worried about you.” A flicker of sadness and pity flashed across Mae’s eyes.

Dorian had told Mae quite a bit about Demetrius in some of the letters they exchanged back and forth during his time in the Inquisition, and even more so when he would visit Tevinter once Corypheus was defeated. She had surely heard the news by now, it was everywhere at this point.

Dorian averted his gaze and grasped the shirt protectively. “Yes, well, for a while I wasn’t quite sure I was coming back either,” he admitted.

Mae smiled again. “Regardless of everything, I’m glad you did. Maker knows we need the help. But, if you do not want to start the ‘Magister-life’ just yet, the Lucerni and I would understand, Dorian.”

“No, no, there’s no need to put this off any longer. Starting now is what I need, it’s what he would want.”

Maevaris placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m very sorry, Dorian, for what it’s worth. I understand how much he meant to you.”

Dorian looked down again, picking at some loose thread in the sheet. “He did.” He looked back up at his friend. “To be truthful, I came back for him. He would want me to continue my work, no matter what happened.”

“Well, we’re having a meeting later this evening if you’d like to attend. But before that, I’m taking you to the Senate building so we can speak to the Magisterium about your absence. But first, we’re going to get you something to eat. Maker knows you need it.” She patted his slender thigh once with a smile and stood, watching him expectantly as he stayed in bed. “Well? Aren’t you coming?”

Dorian glanced down at Demetri’s shirt and ran a finger across the fabric, feeling the man with him still. He could still feel his arms around him, his lips on his hair and his breath against his ear. He will always remember his amatus and will always belong to the man, even long after he was gone and his presence was nothing but a memory for Dorian’s own comfort. Dorian would change Tevinter for his Demetrius, it was the least he could do for all of the love and care he gave Dorian without asking for anything in return. Dorian didn’t know what he had done to deserve such an outstanding person, but he knew Demetri deserved so much more than the ending he got.

Demetrius deserved the world, but the world that he was born into did not deserve Demetrius.

Dorian would make it better for him.

**Author's Note:**

> maybe i'll write something happy later


End file.
